


Corruption

by profmeteor



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Corruption, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profmeteor/pseuds/profmeteor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey corrupts Leo; or, Leo lets himself be corrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corruption

Leo tries not to think about the sermon Sensei would give him if he caught him — tries not to think, too, about why exactly he’s here, tucked under a water tower and drinking beer with Casey. Alone. It’s because they’re friends, he tells himself, if not best friends the way Casey and Raph are — it’s because he’s worried about Casey drinking too much if Leo weren’t here, which he said as much, that he’d drink the whole twelve-pack if Leo didn’t help him halve it. It’s because — because —

"D’you think I could make it in that dumpster?" Casey asks.

Leo leans, hanging onto the support beam to keep from toppling, because four beers down, he’s not so sure about his center. “That one?”

"Yeah. That one."

Leo considers the position, their drunkenness, Casey’s aim, which is excellent on a good day. He thinks he could. “No,” he says, firmly, and leans back.

"Fuck you," Casey says, and lobs it — misses. The bottle shatters against the alleyway wall and Leo cringes; if his guilt had a pulse, which it might, at this point, it would let out a pained throb. Casey, on the other hand, laughs like a hellhound. "Oh man," he says, "did you see that? Boosh!”

"Stop that," Leo says. He nudges Casey with the back of his hand. "You could’ve…" His tongue isn’t working right, and the words are fogging up. "…given up our position."

Casey grins. “Yeah,” he says.

"We’re ninja," Leo says. "Ninja have to be — "

"Speak for yourself!" Casey pushes Leo, a little harder than he meant, or maybe Leo’s more off-balance than he thought, because he topples into the support beam with a soft oof. "I’m an animal, baby!” And he howls, so loud that Leo’s ears ring, and Leo’s trying not to laugh, but that’s definitely a laugh coming out of him, shaking through his plastron, and he topples forward, into Casey, clamors for his mouth to shut him up.

Casey’s mouth is damp and warm, his lips are soft against Leo’s hand, and he’s laughing against Leo’s hand, and pushing against him, and Leo’s stomach is a coil of heat, his face is warm, his body is suffused in warmth, and it’s probably from the alcohol, probably, but — but when Casey grapples him, Leo sighs in relief and pushes back until he’s on top of him, his thighs clamped against Casey’s side, smothering his face with his hands and laughing.

*

"Put that out," Leo says.

But Casey just quirks an eyebrow and takes another drag from his cigarette. “You know,” he says, “I bet Captain Dorkface smokes. He probably smokes like, fifty different types of alien weed.”

"Put it out," Leo repeats, ignoring the flush that creeps up his neck. "That stuff’s terrible for you — "

"Right, like pizza and fried rice every night isn’t," Casey says. His tongue flicks against his bottom lip, and then he places the cigarette there again, a little slower, watching Leo watching him. "Dude, you are so obvious."

"What?" Leo asks, a little shock running through him.

Casey shrugs and holds out the cigarette. “Just try it, Mom,” he says. “Then you can judge me as much as you want.”

"I’m not judging you,” Leo says, but he takes the cigarette as he says it, cradling it in his fingers. He still manages to singe the tip of his index finger and winces. Casey huffs out a laugh, just one, soft, ha, that makes Leo tighten his grip on the cigarette. He puts it to his lips, slowly, the way Casey did, aware of the fact that this has touched Casey’s lips, aware that it should bother him that it has.

"Easy," Casey says, and puts his hand on Leo’s shell.

"Thanks," Leo says, as deadpan as he can when his pulse is hot in his throat. He takes a drag — and it kicks him right at the back of his throat. He coughs out clouds of smoke, nearly drops the cigarette. Casey starts to laugh. "Fuck," Leo says, something he never would’ve just a few months ago, another taste of Casey in his mouth. "What’s wrong with you?”

But Casey is laughing too hard; his fingers dig into the rim of Leo’s shell, hanging on for dear life.

*

"Here," Casey says, "try this," and Leo knows it’s going to be good because they’re in Casey’s room, this time, which is a disaster-area, but a secret one, one where no one could possibly find them, where no one needs to know what happens.

He ends up laying on Casey’s bed, his head pillowed on Casey’s stomach, too sleepy and calm to worry about how easy it would be to roll over and nuzzle against — Casey. It’s more — just — that he knows he could, and is pretty sure that if he did, Casey would make a quiet noise in his throat and cup the back of his head, or maybe start laughing, though they more-or-less stopped laughing ten minutes ago. The silence that’s replaced it is nice. Comforting.

Casey shifts and rests his hand on the top of Leo’s head. “I bet Raph you would toke with me,” he says. “And I woo~oon,” drumming his fingers against Leo’s skull.

Leo snorts. “What did you win?” he asks. He hopes it’s Raph doing something ridiculous; those are the best. The best.

"I got to see the Great Leader Leonardo high as fuck," Casey says. He rubs a circle with his thumb by Leo’s temple, does it again, and again, slow, soothing movements that take the edge out of Leo’s defenses.

"Okay," Leo says. He’s becoming the moment: Casey’s warm, small hand against him, his soft stomach under him, the heavy smell of smoke in the air, his heartbeat between his legs. Casey traces a shape into Leo’s head — and another — he’s painting a picture on Leo’s brow, and there is something huge, there, a meaning just out of Leo’s reach and just within his sight. His stomach flutters. Casey’s fingers trace down and hook in his bandana. Pull — and release, leaving his mask skewed, changed the way a beach is changed by having someone cross it.

Leo is humming low, low in his stomach, and it is vibrating through him. It’s a noise he doesn’t know.

Casey traces down Leo’s cheek. His fingertips are leaving pathways, ones that Leo would like to follow. He touches the corner of Leo’s mouth like a question, and Leo answers it by opening his mouth and turning toward him, letting him in. Casey groans, and it goes through Leo until he’s not sure which of them made the noise.

Leo turns over and nestles his face in the crook of Casey’s jeans. He can feel him, there, the stiffness of his erection and the stiffness of the denim, imagines he can feel Casey’s pulse. When he looks up, Casey’s mouth is open — his tongue flicks over his bottom lip — he traces his thumb along Leo’s jaw.

Leo presses his open mouth against the line of Casey’s cock, cups his thighs with his hands, spreads him and works him until Casey’s silence is broken into grateful moans.

*

Leo is prepared to tell him no, the next time. He has more important things to do — he has to take care of his family, of the city. He can’t afford — this.

But when Casey catches him on a training run and grins, Leo already knows he’s given in.


End file.
